


The Last Minuteman

by SkyMagpie



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst and Humor, Awkward Flirting, Character Tags Will Be Added In The Other Chapters, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gun Violence, Light Angst, Slow Burn, canon is slow cooked @ 225
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-11 21:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12944751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyMagpie/pseuds/SkyMagpie
Summary: Preston is haunted by what happened at Quincy and is determined to put that chapter behind him, no matter the cost.





	1. Ghosts of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> This is planned to be a Preston focused fic, him dealing with the loss of his friends at Quincy, his guilt and also placing him in the position to make morally heavy decisions between what he wants and what is the right thing to do.  
> This will be hinting on his romance with Tracie, who is not the General of the Minuteman and is just his best friend and companion, but due to the focus of this work being Preston's trauma it probably won't end up in serious romance and instead let him deal with his own demons first. The General of the Minutemen is my best friend's character Victoria who will be referenced in this fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preston, even in the brief moments of peace and happiness, is reminded about the pain and the scars left by the Quincy Massacre and all those he failed to save.

There wasn’t much left of the old world, and all that remained were abandoned ruins, items belonging to ghosts embedded in the dust and debris of the once glorious buildings that made up Boston’s skyline, standing there as monuments for humanity to see what they truly lost. For someone that woke up from a vault after two hundred years, it seemed like the world disappeared overnight, everything they knew – swallowed by the War until there was nothing left but broken memories of the once great America they prided themselves for being part of. But for the Wastelanders? Every day people lost their valuables, their homes, the people they love and often, their lives. They never even knew the comforts of warm and dry fancy houses, with the television on and kids playing in the yard, white picket fences and barbecues, living without the fear that someone or something was going to take your happiness away from you.

But now old world met new and they weren’t so different after all. Deep down they knew of love and loss, happiness and sorrow, but most importantly kindness, forgiveness and hope. Those were the human virtues that the destruction and desolation of the Old World could not kill even if it destroyed everything in its wake. Keeping those alive meant keeping humanity alive, as dark and hopeless as it sometimes seemed it was something worth fighting for.

However where there was light, there was darkness, a shadow cast by human nature – the need for violence and hate, the need for fear and war. But it was more important for people to scour the old ruins of what once was, learn from the past and use it to try and rebuild what humanity destroyed, to try and make a new life for themselves as well as mankind.

Tracie and Preston perhaps took it a little bit too seriously, but in reality they really didn’t think about that as they were right now, going through ruins of an old convenience store. The two took care of the feral ghouls that once inhabited the place, their bodies put to rest, scattered around the stores floor and now Tracie was pushing an old shopping cart, filling it with all the junk she could find on the shelves, much to Preston’s dislike.

“You really need all that?” he asked her.

“Well we might need some of it. Besides, there are some nice things here.” Tracie replied with a soft voice, a bit absent minded. She took off her goggles and put them on the top of her head, letting her overgrown bangs fall almost over her eyes. Her face was completely covered in dirt and dark smoke, except for where her goggles were and she reeked of burnt leather and plastic.

“Well I guess some of this scarp can be used to fix that old generator in Sanctuary.” Preston added as he picked up a tin can and some wonderglue. He tossed the glue in the cart and tried following up with the empty can, tossing it from behind his back but, much to his annoyance, he missed and had to go and manually put it in.

“Oh this is very cute!” Tracie said as she picked up a fancy hair accessory “Wait, will it be bad if I take this? I don’t need it and I feel like it would be stealing?”

“I don’t think so. Whoever owned all of this is gone now. That’s from your world, I say it’s free for the taking.” Preston shrugged, readjusting the laser musket on his back.

“You are right.” Tracie grinned in relief and put it in her pocket

Preston walked around, not really amused by how much junk the people before the war needed but, there were useful things to be found. He saw a broken down radio and decided to check it for parts. Some of them could be used to fix his musket, or get more stations on the old radio back at Sanctuary. On the other side of the store, Tracie slowly walked down the aisle, pretending as if she was on another Sunday morning just like before the War, shopping for the everyday necessities without a care in the world. Even if just for a moment. She noticed a magazine on one of the shelves, “The Silver Shroud” issue #65 written in fancy letters over the cover. It was surprising some of these magazines survived so long and she glanced back at Preston with a smile, tucking the old magazine in her jacket. 

“Oh look at that.” She said as she found a shirt, still in the protective packing it was left in two hundred years ago and took it out after such a long time. “That’s a really nice shade of blue, I think you’ll like it.”

Preston rose up from the ground with the spare parts he collected, dusting off his pants and coat before he realised she is measuring the mostly preserved shirt against him.

“Oh!” he was a bit surprised that she was suddenly right in front of him like that.  

“I think it will suit you.” She told him and folded the shirt, putting it into his arms.

“You think?” he smirked, looking at it.

“Trust me. Now all we need to do is go to the checkout.” she pointed towards the cashier desk and Preston rolled his eyes.

“We don’t have to play store, come on.” Preston playfully protested and turned to her, meeting her dark eyes, almost begging for him to play along “Come on Tracie no one will mind if we don’t check out…Really.”

* * *

 “Howdy ma’am” Preston walked through the broken door, pushing the cart with one hand and holding the other on his belt, his hat throwing a shadow over his eyes. This alone managed to steal a giggle from Tracie who stood behind the counter.

“Well hello sir, how can I help you?” she replied with an exaggerated fake accent.

“What the hell was that?” Preston broke character and asked through his laughter.

“We are from the South, just play along.” she replied in a hushed tone.

“Alright, alright.” Preston cleared his throat and continued with his own improvised accent.

“Just need you to check me out” he said as he leaned his elbow on the counter (almost missing the edge), flicking his hat up a little and tried to hold back on laughing.

“Oh that’s not a problem at all, sir.” She said and giggled a little as she stepped to the side of the counter, eyeing Preston head to toe as he stood there baffled. She nodded few times, pretending like she is a curator at an art gallery and added “Oh my, you are quite dashing if I say so myself.”

This caught Preston of guard but he did set himself up for this flirtatious comment and now just pulled his hat down again to cover his flushed face. Tracie bit her lip, trying to figure out if she crossed some line, but seeing him chuckle put her at ease as she continued.

“Well let’s see what we have here!” she didn’t drop the fake accent and began putting all the scrap they collected in her bag. “That would be sixty five American dollars, sir.”

“Oh damn, ma’am I am afraid I’ve forgotten my wallet home, with my wife and two children in my big blue house of Tomorrow.” He tried to sound like how he thought men in the Old World did.

“And picket fences?” Tracie faked a gasp.

“And picket fences indeed ma’am.” He tried to play serious but he couldn’t keep the act anymore.

“Oh you are such a sweet-talker aren’t you? Might just let you off this time.” She pretended like she is doing him a favour and he blushed again when she unintentionally flirted. He finally pushed the cart away and turned back to being his old regular self when Tracie jumped on the counter and sat crossed legged in front of him, blocking him from the bag with their stuff.

“I almost forgot the special. Being our first customer since the apocalypse you win—“she made a dramatic pause which caught him off guard, unable to predict what she was going to do next “–This.”

She said and pulled out the Silver Shroud magazine from her bomber jacket, holding it in front of her and grinning widely. His eyes lit up when he saw it and gently took it from her hands, flipping through the colorful pages.

“You found this here? Number 65, I’ve been missing this one!” he said excited and Tracie’s expression softened, one could say even saddened for she rarely seen him happy like this. Even if just for a moment. It did hurt her watching him walk at night when he couldn’t sleep or sit alone somewhere, crying and hurting away from everyone that would even try to reach out to him. He was punishing himself so much for what happened in Quincy and moments like these, as brief as they were, made him radiant, and she believed he would light up the entire Commonwealth, outshine even the sun itself. And if she could, she would make sure that soft sunlight never went away.

“We can read this tonight if you want.” He commented with a grin on his face before he gently tucked the magazine in his coat.

“Sure thing. Just you will have to lead me in, you know I don’t understand those stories much.” She said and took her bag from the counter, following him as he went for the door.

“Just first we have to get back to Diamond City. And man…it’s a long way from here, huh?” he was tired and he didn’t feel like walking but there was nowhere else they could spend the night.

“We can play the songs on the radio and sing along, one at a time. That always makes everything move faster.” She suggested.

“If Travis actually plays the good ones.” Preston added and before he even finished, she tuned in to the Diamond City station on her Pip-Boy and they were both good to go.

The walk to Diamond City was long, through the fields littered with the monuments of the Old World – traffic signs and cars and billboards advertising the good old life before the war, and under the huge arcs that held the now broken highway, old rusted beams groaning and creaking under the weight of the concrete.

It was gloomy as night fell, but luckily there was no rain which always made things easier. As Preston once told her, when your clothes are dry and your boots don’t sink in the mud, you feel like you can conquer the world.

At last, in front of them appeared the ruined buildings of Boston, dark and intimidating as they stood there like corpses of a dead civilization. Between the broken windows and the missing walls – light, bright and white, illuminating the sky around long after the sun had set. It was Diamond City, standing there in all its glory, built on top of an old Baseball stadium.

“You know I always wanted to play here.” Tracie told Preston as they were let in the City, walking down the streets made of hard wood and metal, much like the scrap houses that rose on each side all around them, neon signs from the shops flickering in all colors.

“You tell me every time we come here.” Preston turned back at her with a grin.

“Well maybe one day, if we bring Baseball back, I will.”

“I believe we call it Swatter here, and it’s quite deadly.” Preston joked.

“Maybe we can do it with less swatting.” Tracie didn’t really understand his joke for a moment before with a soft “Oh” she realized what he was talking about.

“We should find Victoria so eyes sharp in case you see her around.” Preston was suddenly serious.

“Maybe we can grab a bowl of noodles before we ask around? She is either with Nick or at her apartment.”

Preston stopped to consider. The smell of Takahashi’s noodles was a little too tempting to resist and Vicky could wait for another hour. Not like she would miss being shown every single piece of scrap Tracie found in the wasteland. 

“Hey, that was an unfair proposal, you know I can’t say no to that.”

“Great! I’ll get us some, just hold the bag please.”

“Oh, no problem.” He took the load off her shoulder and leaned a little from the weight “Jesus, you carried this all the way? You should’ve told me.”

She was already gone before he finished the sentence and he just wrinkled his nose, turning around on his heels and rocking back and forth a little, whistling along one of the songs that played in the distance.

“Are you a Minuteman?” a strange voice called to him, a woman he had never met before. Some people approached him often, thanking him for his work and he was rather bashful when that happened, wishing that they support the Minutemen instead, feeling as if his achievements were not worthy of their praise.

“Yes ma’am.” He replied taking his hat off.

“Good.” The woman suddenly charged at him, swinging her fist and missing Preston by an inch as he dodged her attack. The man in her company held her back from going in again and Preston stared at her baffled.

“What the hell?” he frowned a little, putting his hat back on.

“Forgive my sister please,” the man that restrained her spoke “We are both stricken by grief.”

“He is about to have a first hand experience in that, if you let me go!” the woman pulled away from her brother’s restrain and Preston stood his ground.

“Whatever is the problem ma’am, we can help.” Preston continued to be polite just because he was raised right.

“Oh you and your group have done enough helping!” she began yelling and got the attention of every drifter and citizen of Diamond City that was around, including Tracie who was standing not too far away. “What you did at Quincy, leaving all those people to die, turning your back on those that needed you the most!”

“Hey.” Tracie approached them “Don’t say that, that’s not true.”

“Oh yeah? My sister is dead because if you.” The woman pointed her finger in Preston’s face, making him take a step back.

“Susan, please.” The man with her tried to stop her shouting.

“And I now hear about that General of yours, where is she huh? Where is she when we are all being killed by the Institute, by raiders and supermutants?”

“I am sorry for your loss ma'am, but we are trying to get the Minutemen back on their feet, It’s not easy so we all have to work together.” Preston said loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Will that get my sister back? The hell you and your General care.” The woman calmed down a little and turned back to the reins of her Brahmin so they can leave.

“They lost people they love too, but Preston and the Minutemen are trying their best—” Tracie tried to argue but her tone was soft and hardly the one that could outspeak with the angry woman, who now cut her off.

“Sometimes that’s just not good enough sweetheart. I’m done with you and your Minutemen.” The woman gave Preston one last scowl before she turned to leave, pulling on the animals reins and her brother’s arm.

Preston stood there, watching the woman go before he put his hat back on, tilting the front a bit to cover his eyes in a deep, dark shadow.

“Oh don’t listen to what she says, You and Vicky will make the Minutemen great, I know it.” Tracie tried to lift his spirits but she knew that what this woman said to him, just few words, would overshadow every thank you, every hug and gift he received for the work he was doing. Almost as if she knew exactly where to strike him.

Preston glanced at Tracie for a brief moment before turning back to the direction the woman went in. Tracie could notice his eyes were not focused on anything, rather just staring over yonder, absent and saddened. How could her words comfort him when he knew that the woman’s sister was dead and yet, he was standing here, a failure that let so many innocent people perish like that, he thought of himself. No matter how far from the truth it was, he would never feel that their deaths were not on his shoulders too. This woman and many others lost people they loved because he let them down, he didn’t keep his promise to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. A little boy wishing to be a hero saw nothing but a failure whenever he looked in a mirror.

The voices of the people on the streets began to come back to him again, hearing them mumble about how the Minutemen were in deed failures and how there was some merit to what this stranger shouted about. They were his childhood heroes and now wherever he turned, for every single person that would thank him, there were ten more that would blame him for everything wrong in the world.

How could they rebuild like this, how could they make the Commonwealth a better place if no one believed that there was good out there in the world. Through all the pain and suffering of the past, all the reminders that stood everywhere around them, people had no reason to believe it will be different this time. He thought himself a fool for thinking that the fairy tale of brave men and women that will fix all the wrongs in the world was anything but that, a fairy tale, told to little kids so they won’t fear raiders at night. He felt Tracie’s fingers gently rub his arm and snapped back into reality, lowering his head and almost shamefully turning his gaze away from her.

“No. She is right.”


	2. Commonwealth Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tired of being haunted by the faces of the past, Preston is prepared to finally face them - even if it means it will be the last thing he'll do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support on my last chapter! I hope you will enjoy this one as well. Thanks to that this fic turned out to be longer than I first planned, so there will be a lot more chapters to come!   
> On a note, there is a bit of canon divergence that doesn't harm actual canon and it's a minor thing most people probably didn't pay attention to.

“What is going on here!?” A tall dark man walked into the room, a frown across his otherwise gentle and kind face as he looked at the new recruits who were shouting and wrestling on the floor.

“Colonel Hollis!” a young boy caught between the other two instantly jumped up, trying to fix his shirt and look proper in front of his commanding officer. The other two soon followed, the pale boy that was trying to grab the girl on the other side by her hair, was now wiping the crimson that ran from his nose down his face.

“I asked what’s going on here.” The man, Colonel Hollis repeated, this time with a calmer but stern tone.

“She broke my nose!” the boy bleeding from the nose complained.

“That’s because you stole my Sugar Bombs!” the girl standing on the other side shouted and once again wanted to take a swing at him, if it wasn’t for the other boy standing between them.

“And you Preston, why are you in all this?” Hollis asked.

“I just tried to keep them from fighting, I swear.” Preston tried excusing himself. The man raised a brow and eyed all three of them, trying to figure out how to solve the dispute.

“Simone, pack your things. You are moving in the new quarters.” He told the girl.

“Oh come on! Ezra you know I don’t like sleeping right next to where they play the bugle.” She argued but knew that he is still her commanding officer and his word was final. She kicked her bag with her foot before she began packing her belongings.

“Ben, guess who has bathroom duty for two weeks. If you are thinking of yourself, you are right.”

“Come on!” Ben complained. Not only did he have a broken nose, but was now going to scrub toilets for two weeks. Served him right for being a thief, but he was still a kid and didn’t want to be known as someone that had to clean everyone else’s dirt just cause he got caught stealing.

“And you Garvey, come with me.”           

“Am I in trouble sir?” Preston asked as he followed without protest.

Hollis guided him out of the bunks and on a walk around the camps perimeter, letting Preston watch the other Minutemen train, clean and fix their weapons or simply stand watch by the fences made of scrap metal and wood.

“No, no of course not kid.” Hollis’s voice was always warm and kind, even when he was angry. But he never raised his voice with Preston, never lost his patience even when Preston misbehaved. It was most likely that the kid had grown on him in the last few months and he would lie if he said that he didn’t notice how Preston looked up to him. Saw him as a hero from some tale he was probably told as a child.

“I just wanted to keep the peace, stop them from fighting.” Preston explained why he was on the ground, torn between the two parties. “If I hadn’t who knew what Simone would have done to Ben, I couldn’t just leave him.”

“That’s about the hardest place you can be.” Hollis chuckled as climbed up one of the platforms. Preston loved the little talks they had, walking around the camp at night, sitting by the fire when none of the other Colonels or Minutemen were looking. He followed up the stairs and finally over the platform that overlooked a huge portion of the Commonwealth, all the way to the line between the sky and the sea in the distance.

“Why is that?” Preston asked.

“Ben is your friend yet he stole from Simone. You could’ve picked a side but you didn’t, you wanted to do what’s right Preston.” Hollis told him gently “And that is the most admirable thing about you. If we had more people like that, the Commonwealth wouldn’t even need us.”

“You are filling that kid’s head with your fairy tales again Ezra?” another man with a cowboy hat approached the two.

“Colonel Clint sir!” Preston stood in attention instantly.

“Let him be a dumb kid like we all were, he will learn.” Clint put his arm around Ezra’s shoulders, receiving a wide grin and a pat on the back from the other man. They bickered like an old married couple but were close friends and Ezra trusted Clint. Preston had heard the stories of all the things they did as heroes of the Commonwealth, fighting back to back. Standing united. That is why he enrolled once Ezra travelled the east looking for new recruits.

“Oh don’t worry he has his chance to be a dumb kid. Trust me” Ezra laughed and turned back at Preston, who still tried fixing his torn shirt, in order to dismiss him.

However Preston had seen this memory before. He lived it. It suddenly became strange and frightening, when Clint slowly moved behind Ezra and levelled a gun against the back of his head. This was not how it went. Ezra seemed oblivious to this and Preston just stood there not as the hopeful seventeen year old but as a scarred man, knowing what he only wished he knew back then. He kept screaming for Ezra, shouting ‘no’ over and over at the top of his lungs, but nothing came out. He couldn’t say a word as he looked at the grin that creeped on Clints face as his finger laid on the trigger.

Bang.

Preston woke up suddenly, drenched in sweat as he gasped for air, screaming after Ezra once his lungs allowed it. He grabbed on the bed frame and pulled himself up against the wall, feeling the old broken plastic panels and metal frame. He was in Sanctuary, he was not back in that camp, not back at Quincy. Once his eyes adjusted and his heartbeat calmed he realized it’s not even morning yet. Sanctuary was quiet, only few lights from across the street and crickets gently singing from the woods nearby.  He was alright, he wasn’t dying and it was just another bad dream. The fifth one this week. They kept getting worse and worse, so much that he dreaded sleeping.

Every attempt to go back to sleep was pointless, he just kept tossing and turning. It would be best if he did something with that time, tune his rifle, patrol the perimeter, anything but see those scenes play out over and over again.

Tracie woke up every night in the same time, went to get water and relieve herself before going back to sleep. And again for the fifth time saw him walking down the main lane, musket on his shoulder and an almost marching stroll, with a stern and saddened look, eyes not focused, just looking forward.

“Preston!” she shouted from the window and waved this time around, startling him. He gripped the musket tight before he realized it’s just Tracie and approached her window.

“You’ll wake everyone up Tracie.” He hushed her.

“Sorry, sorry.” She realized she is shouting “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Someone needs to watch Sanctuary, I heard some rustling and had to make sure everything is alright.” He scratched the back of his head and Tracie sighed, frowning a little. That’s what he always did when he was being dishonest, as rare as it was. She had seen him every night this week, sometimes before that but never this often. His face began to sink, dark circles around his eyes and his cheeks were caved in making him look very tired and skeletal.

“Alright.” She forced a smile and he realized she isn’t oblivious to what he is doing. Still he kept the act on, not knowing what else to say and decided to just keep patrolling.

“Preston!” she shouted after him once again as he gained some distance. He turned with a saddened expression and there was a brief stillness in the air between the two.

“Are you alright?” Tracie asked, obviously concerned. She looked straight into his eyes and he knew it will be hard to lie now. Perhaps he should tell her, they were close friends after all, but he just didn’t want to admit, to open up like that. Not like she didn’t have her burdens to carry and not like she too hid a lot from everyone. He just couldn’t, not right now. Perhaps tomorrow, or next time. Perhaps never.

“Yeah...” he muttered and then said louder in an attempt to convince her “Yeah, everything is fine.”

“Okay...” she said softly knowing he is being secretive but she wasn’t going to push it. “Good night then” she smiled again and tucked her hair behind her ear as she turned back inside. Preston noticed how her smile faded instantly when she thought he isn’t looking but he just couldn’t understand why it was breaking her heart so much to see him like that.

“You too.” He said quietly and felt that familiar pain in the bottom of his chest. As much as he couldn’t voice his heartache it also killed him inside every time he would put the lock on that box.

It was a long night ahead, a long route around the old suburban neighborhood. A lot of time to think about everything. It was torture, every step he took, but anything, anything was better than having to see their faces again and again in his dreams.

* * *

 

Tracie didn’t sleep much that night either. She tossed and turned and couldn’t keep her eyes closed for longer than few minutes. It bothered her that there was a conversation between her and Preston that was left unfinished, words in the lingering silence that were not spoken, but they were there, weighing on both of them. She was still cheerful in the morning, greeting Victoria and Hancock and everyone else around Sanctuary as she walked down the main lane, a plastic bowl filled with scrap in her hands that she planned on fixing one of the broken radios with. It helped her to be like that, pretend life was boring and ordinary and there was not a looming threat of the Institute above their heads, among the other things the Commonwealth threw at the people. It was her way of coping with losing everything, her whole world gone in an instant. She had to hold on to the little things she had, else she feared she will lose herself. And right now she believed that perhaps if she stayed positive it would help Preston smile again, even if for a moment, maybe talk about all those things that made his kind heart heavy.

The working bench was occupied to her surprise and not by Sturges as usual. Preston was sitting there, adjusting the lenses on his laser musket and he was just as surprised seeing her.

“Hey there.” He said softly and slowly watched her sit opposite of him.

“Can I sit here with you?” she wondered.

“Yeah, yeah sure. Did you need anything?” he asked since she carried that bowl of spare parts.

“Oh no, I was going to fix that old radio but I’d rather watch you work.” She left the bowl on the table and pulled the chair to the side of the table, closer to him, and folded her hands on her lap.

“No problem.” He was happy she was around.

“You know when I was little I used to always watch my dad work. That’s how I learned about fixing things.” She told Preston.

“You told me about him once. He was a mechanic, right?” Preston turned to her with a slight grin.

“Oh you remember? Yes, he had his own shop but later worked for Red Rocket.” Her happiness was short lived as she replied, but quickly frowned and looked down.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Preston tilted his head down a little to look at her. Unlike him all of her emotions easily surfaced on her face. Any attempts to hide how she was feeling were pointless, she was just honest with everything that crossed her mind.

“Yeah but it’s stupid you know. I can’t understand he is gone because I keep thinking if I go back home south everything will be normal. No war, no destruction. I’ll find him in his shop and he will greet me and we will be together. But I know  cannot be, it’s been too long. Even if he survived the War he couldn’t have lived for so long, waiting for me.” She spoke to herself.

“Hey you don’t know that. That Vault Tec guy was around for so long, and there are a lot of Ghouls like that. Maybe he made it, in some Vault like yours.” Preston tried to comfort her “One day we will go south and we will find out what happened, alright?”

“Yeah.” She tried not to cry “Yeah that sounds good, thank you.” She looked him with a gentle and a bit naive gaze, noticing how he too looked deep into her eyes before he snapped back and turned to work on the musket again.

“You never told me about your father. Or your mother.” Tracie leaned closer to him again, curious and tried pushing away her sadness with a playful tone.

“I haven’t?” he chuckled “I guess they aren’t as fun as Deathclaw stories or monsters from the deep, huh?”

“I want to know Preston, if you want to share that is.” Tracie still politely asked, coming even closer.

“Alright, alright. My father is a doctor, at least I hope he didn’t finally decided to make little wooden boats for a living. And my mom, she would’ve probably butted heads with Sturges if they ever met.” He turned to her, putting his arm on the chair’s lean.

“I hope I get to meet them one day. They must be so proud of you. Being a Minuteman and all, like a hero from the comic books.” Tracie said hopefully.

“I do too. I bet they are doing alright. Last mail got here not too long ago and I am sure my home town can stand up to raiders and is far enough from the Institute's grasp.” Preston grew sad for a moment “Actually my mother was happier when I showed interest in books and science, thought I’ll follow in her footsteps. To be fair her work with those terminals was far more fun for a kid than my dad sowing off legs. She kept cursing the day the Minutemen came and I got caught up in fairy tales as she called them. Hah.”

“Well maybe she will change her mind once you go back home.” Tracie leaned on the table.

“Maybe...” he mumbled since he dreaded having this conversation.

“Did she teach you about that fancy thing you do with your musket? The lasers and lenses and all those things.”

“No, actually, this is all on Hollis.” Preston replied proudly.

“The Colonel?” Tracie’s eyes widened.

“He taught me how to do this, to maintain my own weapon in case I needed to fix it somewhere on the road.”

He did more than just teach, Colonel Hollis. He guided, showed, inspired. Not just with the laser musket but everything else. Ezra Hollis loved Preston’s curiosity, his analytical mind, hungry for knowledge, but also playful and witty. Always up to something but never at the expense of others. Perhaps a little too brash sometimes however he blamed his youth for that. They would spend nights talking about the books of the Old World, about the politics of the Commonwealth, the people they met, the other Colonels and recruits and sometimes about the Great War everyone loved mentioning. It was almost like people just couldn’t let go.

In times like those, Ezra Hollis would teach Preston many practical things – how to tie a knot, load and unload different types of weapons, clean and maintain them, fix radio boxes and empty a bottle of beer in under a minute. He never felt closer to someone, his days in the Minutemen feeling like home, a certain safety in the familiarity and routine, the people that were like brothers and sisters to him and then, then there was Ezra Hollis. Preston respected all of the commanding officers, but his bond with Ezra was different. It was deeper, almost familial. Ezra understood him the way his parents never did, saw inside that eager but naive young boy and helped him become a kind-hearted young man. It was the kind of bond Preston didn’t value enough until it was gone.

“Minutemen always have to be ready, if someone needs us.” He said and finally closed the barrel he was messing with, snapping the parts together in an instant and aiming it far in the distance, to check the scope and to make sure all the parts clicked.

“Wow, you are pretty good at this. I think he taught you well.” Tracie founding it jaw-dropping how quickly he armed himself like that.

“Yeah, perhaps I am huh?” he smirked at her and gestured at the bowl of spare parts. “How bout we give that radio a look now?”

* * *

 

It was a very, very long day. With nothing to do around Sanctuary time passed terribly slow for everyone and Preston seemed to be the only one around that was actually busy all day. He not only fixed his musket, but helped Tracie with the radio, fixed the sole of his boot, tried patching a hole in his coat with little success and a lot of help from Tracie (who was nowhere better at doing it) and tidied up Sturges’s tools. All of that and yet he found an hour to spend chatting with Mamma Murphy on the patio.

Tracie was surprised at how energetic he seemed today, given how ever since they returned from Diamond City he looked like he had been on ground zero when the bombs dropped. Heck, even the early hours of the morning when she saw him he looked arguably worse than he did now. This should have made her happy but it just concerned her, as if she could feel something is not right.

She waited for him by the front porch of her own house, picking some of the weeds that were growing between the cracks of the concrete. She knew he will have to walk from that route. And there he was, strolling down the sidewalk and up to her.

“Preston” she smiled seeing him again and slowly rose up.

“If you weed out every grass like that from Sanctuary, you’ll be busy till next year.” He joked with her.

“Well you always say doing little things can one day end up in something bigger and better. I do take your words to heart.” She said honestly.

“Well one of us does that at least.” He mumbled and brushed his hands on his legs “Hey listen few days ago when you gave me that magazine, I said we will read together and I kept my promise on that. I haven’t even opened it since…so If you still want.”

“Oh!” Tracie would never refuse anything he said, in fact she never refused anyone in her life no matter what they offered but she had a plan on her own “I am so sorry I am really tired and I just wanted to go to bed. Thought I’ll say goodnight to you and here you are so, goodnight I guess.”

“Ah no problem. We will do it some other day. I should go and talk to Victoria anyway, haven’t seen her all day.” He found an excuse for himself and awkwardly waved at her. He couldn’t say he wasn’t a bit heartbroken by her reply but he should have expected it. After all she has been running and helping him all day and he respected her wish even though he wanted to spend a bit more time with her. Tracie waved back at him and slowly walked back in the house, closing the door, her stare still lingering on him as he walked down the sidewalk.

Both of them were now ready to take action, neither knowing they are almost taking action together instead of against each other. Preston finished his chat with Vicky and returned to the house he slept in, waiting for all the lights, candles and lamps to go out in every house, for every bit of light to fade from the windows except the ones on the porches. And once Sanctuary fell in deafening silence, save it for the power generators and the crickets in the woods, they were both ready.

“This is the worst thing I’ve done…” Tracie mumbled as she began putting her vault jumpsuit on, jumping around to try and fit her leg in it.

“Hope no one will wake up…” Preston whispered as he checked through his gear and gently opened the old rusty door.

“I am so sorry for this, please don’t hate me.” Tracie scolded herself as she slowly climbed out of the back window, loaded with her explosives bag and another small satchel she packed earlier. She didn’t predict where she is putting her foot and the next thing she knew she was face down on the grass with a loud thump.

Preston heard it as he was quietly making his way across the lane and turned sharply, carefully observing the dark surroundings. Suddenly two eyes met him and then a wag of a tail. Dogmeat. Probably looking for a nice spot or chasing toads again. Preston shook his head and continued to his destination. In the house with the workshop they stored all the food they found, should someone need the extra supplies and right now he needed just a bit of that. He walked in what once used to be a utility room and looked for some water and food for couple of days.

Suddenly the only light that the moon threw on the room from the window across the hall was obstructed by something which made him look up. Tracie stood there with a concern expression, breathing heavily as she looked in his eyes.

“Tracie...” he wasn’t too happy that she discovered him but still felt rather apologetic. Tracie just walked in and knelt down on his level, handing him the little pouch and helping him pack the rest.

“There is food and water here for few days, should last even longer. Unless you don’t like my cooking which is fine I just thought you should have—“she stuttered a little, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“How did you—“he was confused.

“I sometimes just know things, I don’t know how.” She didn’t look at him before she slowly got up and walked towards the door, hesitating a little but still stopping at the frame.

“Are you going to do something really stupid?” she turned back and asked.

“Probably.” Preston glanced away and answered.

“Okay well—“ Tracie took in a deep breath “I want to go with you.”

“I mean I could’ve guessed and all” he noted for she wasn’t all subtle when she came fully dressed and armed.

“You are going back to Quincy aren’t you?” she finally confronted him.

“I have to.” Preston said “But I don’t know what I will find there, could be the raiders, could be the Gunners. Could be Clint.”

“So that’s why you talked to everyone in Sanctuary, fixed your rifle and tied all loose ends?” Tracie approached him and he slowly got up.

“Whatever it is, I have to go Tracie. Please.” He was growing agitated.

“I am not stopping you I am just saying I should come with you, in case something happens—“she began explaining herself.

“So that something can happen to you? I can’t do this again Tracie, I can’t live through that again. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat and honestly I feel like I never left Quincy. I have to go back there and I have to face whatever awaits me. But I can’t drag you with me, I can’t do it—“ she wasn’t used to hear him raise his voice like this, a mix of anger and sadness in his tone.

“I can’t lose another person I care about there. Not again. That’s why I’m going alone.” He glared at her, hoping that his persistence and stubbornness will intimidate her enough to back off from her idea. However instead, she came closer and noticed how his face softened up as she did, knowing it hurt him to do what he was about to.

“And I can’t wake up one more morning here in Sanctuary with someone I care about gone forever.” She said with a gentle tone, without a hint of anger or irritation, just a lot of emotions she too buried deep down.

Preston sighed and lowered his head. Of course she was right, what was he going to do was stupid and selfish, just leave without a goodbye, knowing he might not come back. It was rash but he was just desperate to escape the hell he was in every day and every night, over and over. He just wanted to put Quincy to rest even if it meant never returning from the cursed town and lying to rest there with everyone he failed to save. 

“There is a caravan that will pass through here any minute now, we need to catch it.” He told her and Tracie’s eyes light up.

“Preston, we’ve been through the worst this place threw at us and we survived so far. Against all odds. And if we are not back soon Vicky will level Quincy and drag us back for dinner. I am not concerned about this at all.” She tried reassuring him.

“Hah.” He scoffed at first but then sincerely chuckled. "You might be right." he met her with a soft and sincere smile before gesturing at her to follow, so they can both quietly slip out of Sanctuary.

Who knew maybe she was right and maybe they were just that damn lucky that they were going to get out of this one like they did so many times before. As always, they had each other, and perhaps all the villains of the Commonwealth stood no chance against them after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can read more about Tracie as a character on my Fallout tumblr @instishoot as well as look at my Fallout art!  
> As for the minor canon divergence, Ezra Hollis and Clint are friends here where in canon they were probably only acquainted and Ezra speaks as if he barely knew Clint.


	3. The Man on the Highway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preston and Tracie finally arrive at Quincy and they find exactly what they expected to, and so much worse than they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter but that's mostly because the following chapters will be longer and probably more action filled.  
> Hope you'll enjoy it!

The Commonwealth was not so bad after all, once you forget all the times it had tried to kill you. In fact in its peaceful moments it was almost magical, serene and as colourful as it could be, whether it was just a memory or if it was the only world you’ve ever known. What was surprising is that even as winter was approaching, the sun would still shyly peak from behind the mountains, for few moments before the clouds once again veiled its warm light. It gave people hope to see it rise once again, hope that if they survived the dark cold night, they would make it through another day.

Tracie couldn’t say she ever got the pleasure to travel down the highways in anything other than her little cyan car that was now sitting idle and rusty back at Sanctuary. In fact she couldn’t imagine travelling with anything other than the vehicles of her old world. But she couldn’t deny that riding in the back of a carriage pulled by two headed cattle was much more fun for sure.

They took turns, Preston and Tracie, walking by the carriage while the other one rested for a bit. There was only room for one more person to sit down and it was a good thing the caravan let them tag along – some were in fact particularly happy that a Minuteman was going to be in their company for it was always good to have an extra gun at your side especially when Preston and Tracie asked for nothing in return. Still compared to the tall, muscular and heavily scarred mercenaries that were hired for this caravan’s protection, the pair looked like they would go on a stroll in downtown Boston and not what might be a huge fight against dozens of hostiles. However they were well armed and so far they were halfway there and not a single sign of trouble on the horizon. Perhaps raiders would rather not take their chances against a group like that, they usually harassed and robbed smaller caravans or single traders.

“Preston…” Tracie gently shook him since he had been sleeping for few hours now and they were nearing Diamond City which was where they were going to part ways with the traders.

“Hm?” Preston woke up confused before realizing he had fallen asleep on top of a sack of tatos.

“We are almost there, come on.” She said softly and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. On the other end of the wagon, from behind the boxes of cargo, rose up another passenger. A little girl, still sleepy but she was probably there under the blankets since they boarded the caravan in the early morning.

“Oh sorry there!” Tracie said and slowly walked to the other side of the wagon “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“Who are you?” the girl was confused and she turned to see that her family and the mercenaries she knew were up ahead so these two strangers were not raiders for sure.

“Oh I am Tracie, we came along your caravan last night but I think you were already asleep.” She said to her apologetically.

“You are a Vault dweller?” the girl was curious when she saw her vault jumpsuit.

“Well I was, but I don’t think there is much left from my Vault. Except for this suit.” Tracie told her “What’s your name?”

“Eli” the girl smiled and turned to Preston who just waved at her “Is he a vault dweller too?”

“Oh no, he is a Minuteman,” Tracie replied and the girl looked at Preston in awe, jumping over the cargo and sitting on one of the big wooden crates.

“Grace always told me about the Minutemen but I never saw a Minuteman! She said you have a big castle by the sea, with a lot of canons that can shoot half way across the Commonwealth.” The girl was excited to meet him and Preston was pleasantly surprised.

“Well she didn’t lie to you.” He grinned widely and watched as the girl needed a moment to take it all in, realize that the stories she obviously loved so much were in fact real. For a second in that wishful gaze he saw himself when he was younger, swayed by the stories of the heroic deeds of the Minutemen.

“It is a good story actually, how we got the Castle and all.” He teased a little and the girl only got more excited to hear it.

“So the monster is real too?” she came even closer to Preston now, wishing to know more.

“Oh definitely. And she came from the Sea, this huge Mirelurk Queen, long sharp claws and hundred legs.” He made it sound more magical than it was “But she was no match for the General and the Minutemen and that huge monster soon rolled back into the sea never to return.”

“Wow...” Eli could only picture this man she saw defeating a huge Mirelurk at what she imagined to be a castle like from the Pre-War books her parents scavenged, large gates, tall towers and waving flags. “One day I want to be a Minuteman too.”

“Well you can if that’s what you really want.” Preston leaned his elbow on the wooden box she sat on “But you’ll need to be a bit older though and get a little taller.”

“Will I get a gun?” she wondered “Will I get a hat like yours?”

“Like this?” he took his hat off and put it on her coily hair, the little girl grabbing it with both hands to adjust it.

“You already look the part.” Tracie commented as she was quietly listening to their conversation.

“What’s going on back here?” A voice cut them off as one of the mercenaries approached, a tall slender man, dark hair going grey and a big scar over his nose, armed to the teeth with all kinds of weapons.

“They were telling me about the Minutemen, Abraham.” Eli told him, obviously familiar with the man and he eyed both Preston and Tracie. It was his job not to trust them.

“Is that so?” Abraham replied, raising his brows at the little girl. She gave Preston the hat back and he was a little saddened that their little chat was interrupted.

“And they told me about the Castle and the big monster” Eli was excited to tell her mercenary friend. “I wanna join them someday, have a big gun that shoots lasers out of it and a hat like his.”

“Well I ought to teach you to shoot by then huh? Your mom isn’t paying me extra for that you know.” Abraham joked.

“Will you!?” Eli got excited and he just rolled his eyes with a smirk, turning back to her and raising a brow.

“Your mom wants you up front with her young lady, best if you go there.” Abraham added and Eli jumped down from the wagon.

“Bye bye Minuteman.” She said to Preston before running off to find her mother.

“Are we at Diamond City, sir?” Tracie asked the mercenary.

“We are having a detour. A settlement down south, Quincy, called to trade with the caravan. Leader’s orders, don’t ask me about it. Don’t like it, jump off and walk to Diamond City,” He told the two “And don’t think about doing something funny back here, I’ll be within earshot.”

“Yes sir.” Tracie replied quietly and watched him go towards the front where the brahmin were.

“A settlement?” Preston was confused. They would’ve known if there was a settlement for sure, Victoria had most of them mapped out by now for that was her job. And he certainly had seen that map himself.

“I don’t like this, should we get off?” Tracie didn’t know what to do.

“No, no. We were going there anyway, might as well see what this is all about.” Preston was unsure and he didn’t know what to think. He thought that once the town was taken over by the Gunners, no one else would settle there. Maybe someone chased them out? But that was impossible, Clint had an army with him back then, he certainly wouldn’t just leave the settlement, especially after going as far as destroying the Minutemen and killing innocents to obtain it. They had to wait and see and he too didn’t like how this was going.

It was only few hours until they reached the highway that was arching right over Quincy. Preston grew a little nauseous from the sight, knowing that’s the high ground Clint got right before he unleashed his entire arsenal on innocent civilians. Tracie sat next to him as the two watched the ruins of a town up ahead get closer and closer. Old Pre-War wooden houses, now broken and repaired stood in front of them, a deserted gas station right at what seemed like the entrance. And up on the highway, wooden contraptions among the old rusted cars no one bothered to move. It was always eerie walking next to these huge concrete monstrosities since they groaned like ancient beasts under their own weight, breaking the silence and sending chills down your spine. 

Suddenly Preston saw it, a flag with a skull and an X marked right at the forehead. Gunners. He glanced at Tracie for a moment and she didn’t understand what’s going on but followed once he jumped out of the wagon and ran all the way up to the front of the caravan.

“You have to turn back, it’s not safe here!” he urged the people who were leading.

“What are you talking about?” the woman in charge asked and the other woman next to her, Eli’s mom, looked at this man she allowed with their caravan in confusion.

“Those banners over there by the doors, those are Gunner flags. They won’t just let you pass through they will kill you all.” Preston stood in front of the brahmin, forcing the animal to stop and halting the caravan.

“I know they are. I’ve traded with these Gunners before. Take it easy they will not harm us” The tall woman told Preston calmly and continued pulling the reigns of her brahmin.

“You’ve traded with the Gunners? These Gunners?! Do you know how they even got this settlement? By spilling the blood of every man, woman and child there. Ma’am with all due respect you let me on board because I was a Minuteman and as a Minuteman I advise you not to trade with these people.” He insisted.

“It’s true what he says.” Tracie came up to Preston to support his cause. The woman looked at the two and understood their plea but most of the other merchants began loudly protesting for they cared not about Preston’s pain nor how the Gunners got to settle in Quincy. What mattered to them was that they paid well in the past and they were going to pay well again.

“I knew the two of you would cause trouble.” Abraham worked for the best interest of those that hired him and he had no intentions of letting two nobodies from the other end of the Commonwealth interfere with one of the more successful caravans.

“We just wanted—“ Tracie began and another man, old and balding, pushed her, much to everyone’s surprise and insisted that the caravan moves on, with or without them.

“I don’t pay you to stand around and chitchat with some kids.” The hostile man scolded Abraham for not reacting with more aggression. What was he supposed to do, he wasn’t being paid to fight civilians and he certainly wasn’t paid by this man either. He gave him a frown in return and warned Preston and Tracie to stay away.

“Best if you two part from this ride.” He told them as the caravan continued.

“You are making a mistake.” Preston warned the leader one last time and she began to hesitate, but in the best interest of the group, continued on.

 “They know they are going into Gunner territory. We can’t stop them and we can’t go with them, if someone there as little as suspects we are with the Minutemen they might kill everyone.” Preston took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair, not knowing what to do next.

“But what if something happens to the caravan and we are not there to help?” Tracie was now worried. She didn’t know the Gunners personally, but knowing Preston’s story she knew they are nothing less than villains.

There was merit to what she said and Preston too thought of that. He slowly scanned the surroundings and noticed one of the broken houses right next to the graveyard and away from the main road. He scratched his chin and turned to Tracie.

“I have a plan.”

* * *

 

In a suit of power armor, even the weakest and most cowardly soldiers would have the strength of a supermutant. He stood there, so certain of himself and his little setup here as he slowly watched the caravan walk in through the gates. Sure, one of his Lieutenants might have had her doubts but he still managed to hold this place for over two months now with no troubles. Surely there was a promotion waiting for him and hopefully a one way ticket out of this dump that was the Commonwealth and up north towards the Capital Wasteland. He spat on the ground before grabbing the radio from his desk and calling in on his soldiers below.

“Austin come in.” he spoke into it.

“Yes sir!” a man from the other side replied.

“I see our traders are in, you know the drill?”

“Yes sir. We have the list of supplies and we ask for half the price. And if not—“ Austin was cut off by the man.

“You take out few of those brutes with guns and remind them that we own this place and they can end up with lead in their skulls too.”

“Yes…sir.” Austin said a little unsure even though he knew his commands.

“And get me some goddamn beer. A crate of it.” The man at the top of the highway added and turned the radio off before Austin replied. He turned his gaze back to the caravan and watched them as they stopped in front of the chapel and began unloading their wares.

The gunners began trading with the merchants, making sure the stuff was all in good condition for what they were paying. The only reason why their leader traded with men like these was because the Gunners offered them protection on the road. In fact no wonder no raider attacked them, they probably knew who this caravan traded with. Preston and Tracie however, didn’t. They carefully watched the exchange as they laid down on the floor on the second story of that broken house they chose to hide in.

“This is a goddamn Gunner den.” Preston said filled with anger as he looked at them “Every last one of them should be put down. These people are responsible for what was done in Quincy, the blood is on their hands.” His nostrils flared as his blood began boiling.

“Hey, now that we know what’s going on we can think of a plan.” Tracie rarely got mad but she, too, was now angry seeing the people that killed innocents and hurt Preston the way they did. Took everything from him. It was like seeing Kellogg, but probably even worse from where Preston was standing.

And then he saw him. At the top of the highway, a dark figure in power armour. He couldn’t really make out his features but he knew it was him. Preston’s boiling blood suddenly froze. His anger turned to fear and his heart started pounding so hard he felt like it will jump out of his chest.

“Preston?” Tracie was concerned seeing his face lose its color and his eyes staring at the highway, not focused and almost as if there was nothing behind them. He was frightened at the thought of this man, frightened from the idea of once again facing him, of looking him in the eye. He felt Tracie’s hand squeeze his own and snapped him back into reality again, turning to face her and not letting go of her comforting grasp.

“He is here.”

* * *

 

The trading seemed to go fine down below, no violence or aggression from either side and it looked like things will go smoothly. One of the Gunners approached the mercenary, Abraham, and tapped him on the back.

“Abe, didn’t think you’ll be here.” He said and Abraham smiled in return.

“We all got our jobs to do.” Abraham replied.

“Well at least mine is paying better. What do they give you, huh, tatos and mutfruit?” he began laughing as he smacked the obviously taller man on the back.

“I ain’t joining your gun cult if that’s what you are saying, Tom.” Abraham joked and tried to remain vigilant. He watched over Eli and her mother the most since they hired him and his loyalty was with their money. He saw Eli climb over the cart and look around before she called out to him.

“Abraham!” she said and once she spotted him asked “Where are the Minuteman and his friend?”

His blood froze for a second. Most civilians were oblivious and she was just a little girl but he knew better than them. He was now even sure that this could really quickly go south once Tom moved away from him and just nodded. Minutemen and Gunners, they were sworn enemies even before the Minutemen fell and one could only imagine it had gotten worse recently. No doubt the man that watched this whole trade from his high ground was going to hear about this and whatever followed was not going to be pretty.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.” Tom said before he stepped away. And it wasn’t just him, most Gunners now stopped what they were doing and began turning to look at each other. Preston and Tracie knew something was wrong and they too prepared for anything right now. He slowly grabbed his laser musket and charged it, waiting quietly behind the wooden covers, praying, hoping that it was nothing.

The man at the top of the highway looked down, he, too, noticing that something wasn’t right. He turned on the radio and as he expected Austin was calling in.

“Sir!” he said “There is a Minuteman with them. What should we do?”

The man’s eyes widened as his armored hand squeezed the edge of the desk he was holding to, breaking through the wood. It was all going so well and now he had to hear that word again. Minuteman. He knew they were making a comeback, but not in his town, no. Not as long as he could help it. For what was worth he thought they are done for, new General or not, and he was going to make sure to aid in their second and inevitable end, Just as he did the first time.

“Kill them.” He barked into the radio and received silence from the other side “Kill them all. Women, children, I don’t care.”

“Sir—“ Austin was unsure if this order was wise.

“I am your commanding officer and I say kill them all! Put a bullet in the heads of every one of those armed goons and then gun down the rest, is this not a clear order?!” he shouted and once again received static from the other side.

“Yes…sir.” Austin replied before he turned off the radio, leaving the man to resume his watchful position, waiting to once again stand on his high ground and watch men, women and children slaughtered at his order. Good. That was a fitting punishment for trusting in the Minutemen. If the Commonwealth didn’t learn the first time that they were a dead faction, they could be taught the same lesson over and over again, as often as needed. And he was a willing teacher.

The Gunners wanted to make sure there would be no casualties on their side, so they wanted to do it clean. Ambush them. Slowly they began coming closer to the armed men and preparing to take them by surprise. Abraham however knew Gunner tactics all too well. He knew what was about to happen and when he saw one woman put her hand on the gun at her side he shouted.

“Ambush!”

The other mercenaries had seconds to react and couple fell to the shots from the Gunners however the rest were ready and quickly took out the first wave. Now all hell unleashed and the traders began running frantically. A dozen of civilians in panic created chaos and neither side knew what they are aiming at. On top of that the brahmin too panicked and took flight in attempts to survive, dragging the wagons with them and into the incoming Gunners, knocking most of them out.

The leader of the caravan, the tall woman, only now realized that she should have listened to Preston but she didn’t have much time to dwell on that as she tried to run for dear life. A Gunner intercepted her and in a single hit from his rifle she was down on the ground before watching as he pointed the barrel at her head. A shot came as she closed her eyes in fear but once they were open again, she saw the Gunner on the ground in a flash of red light that shined through the town like a beacon.

Slowly the woman turned towards the source of the light and there on the balcony of the old broken house he stood, one foot on the railing for better aim as his coat swayed in the wind, laser musket aimed at the Gunners and ready to protect the people. The man on the highway looked down once he saw the light. He knew what it was and he knew who that was. Preston Garvey, the last Minuteman.


	4. The Battle for Quincy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preston has to relive another fight for the town of Quincy but this time around he has the power to change things and to save the people against all odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit longer and more action filled, however I tried to add some cute stuff and some funny bits with Tracie for good measure among all the running and fighting. I hope you like it!

He knew this Minuteman, Garvey, and he knew him all too well. He enrolled under the command of Ezra when he was just a boy at seventeen and made quite the name for himself over the last five years. People knew Preston, everyone that served at the time and everyone that the Minutemen saved since he joined. Everyone he saved. In fact the Commonwealth spoke his name often and that’s how Clint found out he is still alive. He just never thought he would come for him, after all this time. Didn’t think he had it in him to seek revenge. But one thing he knew for sure – if he ended Preston Garvey right here and now, all hope of the Minutemen’s return will die with him.

The fight was chaotic and Preston needed to be among the mercenaries and protect the people who were unarmed and unable to fight for themselves. There wasn’t much to be done just shooting from the balcony even if he preferred to have a high ground.

“We need to help them.” He told Tracie and she was already prepared.

“On it.” She replied and both rushed out of their hiding and into the fray.

Preston ran through the traders as they fled for their life, the brahmin that they tried to calm down, as the big animals pulled and kicked in fear, and the hired guns that desperately tried to hold off the Gunners. He suddenly lost his footing when a woman accidentally knocked him down in her frantic escape. He needed a moment to realize what happened when he saw her, the mother of the girl he told all those stories to, back on the road.

“I can’t find her, I can’t find my girl!” the mother cried out and Preston realized that in this chaos people would get cut off, lost and hurt and none of them knew how to defend themselves against a military onslaught like the Gunners. Ezra always knew how to handle such situation, he would always find a way to calm the civilians and get them to safety. And that was Preston’s priority right now.

“Everyone, into the Chapel, quickly!” he shouted and climbed up on a fallen crate “It’s our only chance!”

The armed mercenaries listened to him and they began herding the civilians inside, the people realizing they won’t get a better shot than listening to experienced fighters paid to protect them. Quickly they made their way inside the protection the tall walls and bordered up windows offered, the Chapel standing as the only structure that had a single entrance and not enough holes the Gunners could crawl in through.

“Civilians out back, on the second floor and behind the walls!” Preston instructed them as few of the mercenaries shot at every Gunner that tried to follow through the main door “Everyone that can hold a gun, with me!”

The armed men and women followed and Preston now clearly noticed that Tracie was nowhere among the fighters, not the traders or the mercenaries. His heart raced realizing that they are separated and fearing for her, hoping to see her run through the open Chapel doors with each incoming trader or mercenary, but she wasn’t there. He had to find her but right now if he didn’t make a stand with the others the Gunners were going to slaughter everyone. And he couldn’t live through that scene one more time, never again.

* * *

 

Tracie did get separated from Preston as she followed the mercenary that spoke to them, Abraham, who was on the pursuit to find the little girl Eli. She followed him into one of the broken buildings when she heard a gunshot echo through the collapsed dirt covered halls, before rushing to see what happened. Abraham had faced his former friend Tom and received a bullet to the side of his stomach. In pain from his injury he was down on the ground, pulling himself against the nearby wall as Tom spoke to him.

“Should’ve listened on time Abe, I hate to have to do this.” Tom told him, looking Abraham straight in his eyes to see fear but not surprise, before he aimed the gun at his forehead to finish the job. What surprised Abraham was the pained look that suddenly came over Tom’s face as he fell forward and flat on the ground. Behind him stood the vault girl, holding a broken piece of wood from some stairwell that she just hit Tom across the back of his head with, saving Abraham’s life.

“Sorry…” she said quietly and walked over his unconscious body to help Abraham “I am so sorry, you are going to be okay, I promise.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Abraham laughed seeing how this girl he didn’t even know not only saved his life but now she comforted him, an aged mercenary, about his desperate situation “Didn’t think today is gonna go like this, but I’ll take it.”

Tracie helped him up as he grabbed at his side, red dripping from his wound and down his leg. She was scared that he might not make it to the Chapel with his wounds, but he seemed to fare pretty well as they slowly made their way around the building, hiding from the incoming groups of Gunners who were now heading for the Church.

Preston was ready with all the mercenaries as he had them lined up on the balconies of the second floor, over the main hall below. He instructed them to wait for his command and they would be foolish not to listen. He was younger than most of them but he sure knew what he was doing for fighting was more than just aiming right and pulling the trigger. Once few Gunners walked in, everyone was prepared to fire but Preston signaled them to hold back. Perhaps the Gunners were going to turn back, not pursue, however they pressed on inside the Chapel after meeting no resistance. 

If they were not going to back away, they were going to get shot and Preston wasn't going to just let them walk in and kill everyone. He silently signaled the mercenaries who did not wait a second before opening fire, much to the Gunners' surprise. They were caught off guard and the mercenaries – even if clearly outnumbered, managed to take out more than half of the group that came in. He thought their setup here was safe, that they could protect the people but it was a calculation made based on what he knew about Clint, the kind of leader he was. If the tables were turned he knew that a smart man like Ezra would wait them out, but not Clint, no, his blood was boiling and he was going to claw at the entrance of that Chapel to get to him until he killed everyone inside.

Preston knew Clint all too well. In fact he and Ben, back with the Minutemen, often ended up in situations which drove Clint mad. They would be caught together in places where they shouldn’t be, break something as they would try to escape Clint’s anger and then run fifty circles around the camp as punishment, while rain was pouring. So as much as Preston respected Clint’s command and his friendship with Ezra, he was always a little more rebellious when it came to his authority. However as he grew older a part of him knew that Clint cared not for the people or their freedom, but for his own agenda – fame, fortune, feeding his arrogance and his need to have power over others. In five years of serving the Minutemen Preston had never seen Clint as angry as he was when he disobeyed a direct order so that he could save someone’s life. Someone he loved and cared for and at that moment he also saw the rip in the friendship between Clint and Ezra for Ezra took Preston’s side.

He counted on Clint making a stupid mistake and he was hoping it will save these people. A ruthless brute but a horrible leader and he knew it. That’s why he hid behind armies and armors and weapons. He was a coward.

“General, they set up a good defence and we can’t breach it. They have the Chapel taken and with it supplies of food and ammo. Should we wait them out?” Austin called in on Clint’s radio as he still stood on the top of his bridge, observing the fight below.

“No.” Clint replied arrogantly “How many gunners do they have?”

“About five, maybe six with the Minutemen.” Austin replied.

“There is no point in waiting out five guns and a bunch of women and children. Clear the area, call back all our troops, I am calling in Baker.” Clint replied and switched the radio frequency “Baker come in.”

“Aye boss?” a man replied from the other side.

“Pull out the big guns and light up the Chapel.” Clint instructed him and his Lieutenant Tessa smiled seeing how he took such direct action. Surely she thought she made a mistake when she put her trust in him back at the first battle for Quincy, but now she understood why he was made General.

Preston knew something wasn’t right, he felt it in the silence that suddenly filled the air. Slowly he glanced through the holes in the windows to see the Gunners retreating. They were either drawing them out or there was something worse brewing beneath the surface. Fear came over him as Clint calling back the attack caught him by surprise. Perhaps he made a mistake, a terribly misjudgement of Clint’s character, but if this mistake cost everyone their lives he wouldn’t be able to live with it again.

The silence was broken by a thundering noise, followed by a whistling sound that cut right through the still air. Much like the sound of a missile. 

“Everyone down!” Preston didn’t have time to warn them as the whole chapel shook from the impact which broke the wooden platform they were standing on and sent Preston and the mercenaries falling down below. Boards and wooden planks that barred the windows now flew across the main hall of the building and he covered his head with his hands, his ears ringing as everything around him turned to muffled screams and cries. He felt like he can’t breathe from the impact with the ground and the room was filled with bright light and smoke. Once the initial shock passed, he slowly tried getting to his feet, trying to figure out how are they even alive. He saw that the wall between them and the explosion was still intact and concluded that to their luck, It was not a direct hit. But a sound like that, the level of destruction even if it hit hundred meters away from them – only a Mini Nuke had such power.

“How could you miss, you idiot?!” Clint yelled into the radio for Baker hit a building that was a block away from his target “Fire again!”

“Aye!” Baker was a little distraught that he missed, but determined to fix that mistake this time around, repairing the barrel of the Fat Man he used and realizing that the slight bending of the metal caused this miss along his miscalculation.

Tracie and Abraham were both covered in a lot of dust and debris from the bomb but were otherwise unharmed. She looked up to where it came from and figured out what whoever fired the missile was aiming at.

“Preston…” her heart ached realizing if he does hit the next time around, he will kill them all, all the innocent people and the children. They would kill Preston.

“Hey, what do you say we stop that prick huh?” Abraham, even if injured, proposed the most logical action and she once again put his arm over her shoulder. He was a tall man and heavier than her, but a fighter and he walked on his own more than she supported him. They were the only ones that could stop the next missile right now, and no one knew they were even alive or stranded away from the rest like this. They had the opportunity and Tracie knew that if she wants to save Preston, save everyone, she has to do it.

Recovering from the first hit Preston tried helping the others, seeing how some were injured from the flying wood and worried that this was going to be the end. There was no way out for them. If they ran they would be hunted down once again as Clint did the last time, if they stayed they would be blown up to pieces. Perhaps running would be the best course of action, but he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch as innocent people were pursued and gunned down again, he wouldn’t give Clint that pleasure.

“Take it easy—“ he spoke to a mercenary as she was in shock from the blow however had no wounds.

“Abby!” another one of the mercenaries called out to her friend and Preston stepped aside, knowing that the woman was safe with her. He had to make sure everyone else was alright, however the ringing was still in his ears and he had to grab to one of the old metal shelves that were knocked against the walls, everything that was once on them now on the ground when it shook from the explosion. 

Suddenly the same thundering noise came, followed by a whistling sound and everyone thought that this time they were done for good, as the missile would probably not miss again. However much to their surprise the horrifying whistle sounded as if it was gaining some distance and the loud explosion that followed seemed like it was a mile away. Preston stumbled a little as both he and the woman named Abby rushed towards the window to see what unfolded. Smoke came from the highway, where the bomb had hit and in fact it hit a lot of the Gunner’s artillery stash. This was no miscalculation, no man would miss the direction by this much and Preston suddenly realized that there was only one person who was dying to fire a Fat Man ever since they met. Perhaps it was foolish to hope but his heart fluttered where he considered that she might still be alive.

* * *

 

Clint would have been knocked on the ground by the impact which shook the entire highway hadn’t been for the Power Armor he was in, helping him keep his footing. The few Gunners that were on the highway at the time were knocked down or some even off the top and bottom lanes and down into the water below. Anger built in Clint as he took his hat off the ground and grabbed the radio again, almost ripping his entire thing from the desk.

“Baker! What the fuck are you doing!?” he shouted into the radio receiving static from the other end. Tessa listened carefully for Bakers answer as both of them stood there confused by the silence, until a strange voice broke it.

“Hello? Hey, um this is Tracie, hello! Baker can’t come to the radio right now, he is a little busy but I am here, how can I help you?”

Clint shut the radio off so she won’t hear him shout as he cursed her with every bad word in his vocabulary.

“What now? Just let me go down there and get this shit over with. We lost too many men for your stupid revenge Clint.” Tessa was never really loyal and even though for a moment she thought Clint’s leadership will get both of them a promotion, she realized she was sadly mistaken.

“We held Quincy for two months, I know what I’m doing. Are you questioning me Lieutenant?” he snarled at her and began thinking. Surely they had the front entrance of the Chapel secured but there was still another way in – the bell tower. It was connected to the Highway through a path of wooden boards and planks back from when the Minutemen set it up their tactical defences. It was one of the few remaining ways to get to the top of the Highway aside from using the elevator Clint and the Gunners installed later.

“Austin!” he barked into the radio.

“Sir.” Austin replied, he too hoping for an explanation about the explosion.

“Dispatch a small party to find that little bitch that took out Baker and bring the men up, we will get them from the bell tower.” He told him and this time calmly put the radio down. Preston was not going to outplay him and escape again, he was going to make sure of it.

* * *

 

“You better move.” Abraham told Tracie as he laid against the wall behind her, clutching at his wound that was still heavily bleeding. His face was drained of color and now he was breathing heavily, sweating as his body strained to keep him going. “They will send men after us here and they will kill us for Baker.”

“I think he is doing okay.” Tracie said as she was loading the Fat Man and turned to Baker’s unconscious body.

“Just get out of here and go to the Chapel.” Abraham raised his voice.

“I am not leaving you behind. If anything Preston taught me, you leave no man behind.” Tracie said and left the Fat Man, going to Abraham and pulling on his hand to make him get up.

“I am slowing you down and if anyone is to get out of this place I’ll slow them down too. Now get going and find the little girl, Eli. Find her and bring her to her mother.” He said quietly and out of breath, his arm going limp every time it would slip from her hands.

Tracie stopped pulling and looked him straight in his eyes, shaking her head a little in disbelief since she couldn’t just leave him there to die, not like this. She wasn’t going to leave anyone for dead for that matter, but suddenly sound of footsteps interrupted her thought and Abraham pushed her off him.

“Get out of here!” he said and grabbed the gun at his side. Tracie went to the stairs but she saw the Gunners approaching so with nowhere else to go she hid in the broken down closet next to her, among the junk Baker kept there. Abraham was not happy with it but he was going to spend his last breath on taking both of these assholes down with him.

Two Gunners came and with their guns aimed scanned the area. Abraham didn’t have time to pick up his gun when he had two barrels pointed at his face, staring in the eyes of the man and woman that came to finish the job. The woman quickly examined the Fat Man and the man was looking at Abraham, looking at how wounded he was.

“No way you fired that Nuke alone.” He commented.

“You are saying there was someone else?” The woman asked. She opened the radio and told Austin that the threat from the Nukes has been neutralized, receiving a surprised but thrilled response form the other side. Finally things were turning around for the Gunners.

“Let’s see what he has to say.” The man pointed the gun at Abraham but once he looked into his scowl, he knew that he wasn’t getting any information of this man alive. He shrugged before cocking the gun “Suit yourself.”

Before he could even touch the trigger, his attention was caught by the closet door violently swinging open and hitting against the wall, and a young woman poking her head out of it.

“Hey one second, do you think someone my height would be able to lift that Fat Man alone?! Yes or no?” she said in a very naïve and cheerful tone as means to distract them. It didn’t take Abraham much to knock the man’s pistol out of his hand and shoot with his own gun at the woman, hitting her in the vest and knocking her back from the impact. The man reached for the gun but saw Tracie’s hand grabbing it before him. He was surprised for a second before he grabbed and twisted her hand. She just tossed the gun in the other one and he was offended that she was toying with him like that. However play time was over and this time he hit her with his elbow and finally disarmed her. As Tracie fell back, she found the gun now pointed at her face, making her let out a high pitched scream in fear. Much to his surprise, the Gunner heard a gunshot but not from his own, followed by two other and looked down at the holes in his chest before he fell to his knees and Tracie ran away from his aim. Abraham still came through and when he saw her he just shook his head and flashed her a wide, bloody grin.

“You are stubborn, aren’t you?” he laughed before coughing up some blood. Tracie looked through the pockets of the Gunner that was now dead on the floor and found a single stimpak syringe, as if sent from the heavens just when they needed. She didn’t even ask Abraham before she stuck the needle in his thigh, making him open his eyes wide in shock and surprise at how he suddenly felt like he can go on.

“I’m sorry but you will have to find that little girl Eli and bring her safe to her mom yourself. It’s your job and you promised you will teach her to shoot. It’s bad to break a promise.” She told him with a gentle voice and then added with a deep sigh that obviously weighted heavy on her “And I have to find my friend. “

Abraham smiled and nodded at her before the two of them got up to finally return to the Chapel.

* * *

 

Preston was making sure to have the mercenaries set up some defenses by the door - the old benches from the Chapel that were broken and scattered around the hall, Sturges old desk and chair, the big metal shelves where whoever made the Gunner workshop there was using, as well as every wood that broke off when that Nuke hit. He even asked if any of the mercenaries knew how to use the Power Armor that was laying idly in the shop, probably belonging to one of the Gunners, but not only did none of them have any knowledge, they didn’t even know how to start it up. He went in the back to make sure the traders were all alright, asking them calmly as most were crying and panicking and making sure they understand that they might be forced to sit here for a while more and even though it wasn’t true, he wanted to reassure them that help was coming.

“Will the Minutemen come for us?” the caravan leader asked him, holding to her arm where a bullet had grazed her flesh. 

“I—Yeah they will come, our General will know there is something going on now that Radio Freedom is running. She is smart and resourceful, she will send someone after us.” Preston told her what he wanted to believe and scratched the back of his head before he turned around. He didn’t want to lie, but as long as these people had hope they were going to fight to survive. He was going to fight to survive.

“Minuteman…” a familiar voice addressed him and he turned to face the mother of the little girl “Did you find her? Eli, my daughter?” she asked through tears and a voice in pain only a mother could know.

“No.” he replied sharply and couldn’t look at her so he strayed his gaze again. “But I will.” His voice was warm as he spoke, reassuring for he promised her and himself that he will find Eli, dead or alive. Twice that woman pleaded for his help and he ignored her, he couldn’t do that again. If Eli was alive, that little girl was alone and scared in the middle of a warzone. He, too, now had a promise to keep. In the hall, the defences were ready and he got to the second floor (or what little was left of it after the explosion) looking through the window and seeing that no Gunners came for them yet.

“Where are they?” Abby asked him as she was reloading her gun down below.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head and noticed in the distance, the group of Gunners that remained making their way towards the Highway. There was no way they were retreating, it must’ve been some kind of a trap. He wasn’t just going to let them walk, it was not Clint’s way. The man was a beast, a monster, he was going to chase them all the way to Diamond City if he had to.

“Something’s not right.” Preston tried thinking and suddenly it hit him. They did secure the Chapel’s front entrance nicely, but there was one more place Clint could get to them, and catch them off guard. He didn’t wait a second for Clint’s men to catch up as he ran quickly up the stairs, all the way to the top of the Chapel and to the narrow opening leading up in the bell tower. Light burst in as he opened the wooden hatch and climbed up next to where the bells used to be, seeing the planks that still connected the Chapel to the Highway over the building's roof. At the end of the improvised wooden catwalk, there was a huge gap that no man could jump through made solely from wood. The spot he needed to dismantle.

And then he saw Clint. A little too close as he felt every muscle in his body tensing. And worst of all Clint saw him too. After they made sure to let each other know one was not going to walk out of this, Clint began yelling at his men to hurry up and finish this whole ordeal. Seeing that the Gunners rushed to the bridge, Preston ran down the wooden catwalk and made it to the edge where the sole bridge connected the building with the Highway.He grabbed the planks and began pulling them out of the wooden base, the old rusty nails he once helped hammer down, were now coming undone. Clint was shouting in the distance but Preston tried not to listen. Few gunshots came at him, one scraping him on the back as the Gunners set foot on the bridge. Preston was not a big or strong man but all he needed to do was pull this one plank out so that the whole structure would collapse. Seeing few Gunners stepping on the bridge and slowly approaching, he pulled out the laser rifle and shot at the final nail, setting the plank on fire and finally pushing it off the edge with his foot.

He made sure to look Clint in the eye as he did, and felt the man’s rage filled gaze pierce right through him. The Gunners ran as the whole bridge collapsed, few falling down to their doom below and Preston just stood there, his legs shaking and his heart pounding, looking at Clint and letting him know that never again will he allow him to take one more innocent life.

Clint wanted to yell after Preston but before he could he was gone, disappearing down the hatch. With him he had one of the broken planks and he made sure to stick it in the hatch door so that even if they do cross somehow, they won't be able to get in so easily. He now had a more important thing to do, find the little girl Eli and just like he promised her mother. And find--  
Preston stopped realizing that through all of this he had forgotten about Tracie. He convinced himself she too was alright, for that was the only thing he had left for her now. Hope. 

“Keep this defence line, they will be coming. One of you should man the stairs towards the bell tower just in case. I have to do something.” He told Abby and her friend for they seemed like the most experienced from the bunch and the women nodded, watching him climb over the old wooden benches and debris and into the streets.

His search was frantic and as he took the first turn left, not seeing Tracie and Abraham who came out from the main street, missing him by a mere second and making their way to the Chapel. He looked inside buildings, under the old counters and into the closets but no sign of anyone, alive or dead.

“Eli!” he shouted after her and got no response, making his way to what once a liquor store to get a better view. Perhaps Tracie found her, perhaps there were more survivors that didn’t escape with them in the Chapel “Eli! Tracie!”

“Help!” a muffled voice called out from the apartment building across the street and he quickly made his way there. Someone was alive and for the first time  since he started the search he could breathe easy. But this didn’t mean they were out of trouble yet. Perhaps she was trapped under something, or injured.

With his rifle at his hip he made his way around the building, making sure there was no one inside it, before he ascended the stairs and followed the muffled scream that echoed before.

“Eli!” he said one last time before he saw a man sitting there with a radio and a gun next to Eli’s head, the girl crying and sobbing in fear.

“Finally the Minuteman. Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused us? Half of my friends are dead cause of you!” The man spoke. It was Austin and his little radio room where he contacted Clint throughout the fight and letting him know how things went.

“Hey you don’t have to do this.” Preston suddenly put his rifle away and rose his hands. “Your friends are not dead because of us, it’s because you followed Clint’s orders and decided to kill innocents. But you don’t have to do this now, you can let her go and we will just leave.”

“I think I do. You need to feel the guilt of watching your friends die and knowing you can’t do shit about it.” Austin had no idea how much his words cut Preston as he felt anger build up inside of him.

“Oh I know, I know better than you think. Listen, If you let her go now, let her go back to the others you can have me. My life for hers.” Preston offered, not afraid of staring death in the face at this moment for what was worse than death is living and knowing the blood of a little girl was on your hands.

“Hmmm, let me think about that.” Austin was being smug but then he realized Clint wanted the Minuteman, he didn’t care for the merchants or mercenaries and he especially didn’t care for the kids life. He picked up the radio with his free hand and called in.

“I need backup in the apartment building.” He called to the Gunners and then switched the frequency to Clint.

“Austin.” Clints voice spoke from the other side and hearing it sent a chill down Preston’s spine.

“S-Sir” Austin’s smug and arrogant voice now sounded scared as he addressed Clint “I have the Minuteman, should I bring him alive?”

As he asked there was static from the other side that was broken by a wheezing laugh.

“I am right here you bastard!” Preston yelled and the laugh from the radio ceased. Instead the silence was now broken by heavy breathing as Clint spoke into the radio with a low voice, probably right into the microphone.

“Yes. Bring him alive. I have some catching up to do with Garvey.”

His words sent chills down Preston’s spine as he called his name, having all their interactions flash before him for better or worse. The same voice that stared Ezra in the face and told him he will kill every man, woman and child in Quincy and then he will kill him.

The backup Austin called for arrived and he told them to have Preston at gun point but not to kill him under any circumstance. Once he made sure of that, he let the girl go and she ran towards Preston. He knelt down and pulled her in, pretending to hug her as he whispered quietly.

“Tell your mother the Minuteman said for everyone to run away right now. Leave Quincy. Tell her that.” He said and watched as Eli slowly nodded.

“Come on move it!” a woman yelled at Eli and followed the girl with her gaze as she made her way outside and towards the Chapel. Just for this once they were going to let a hostage go and everyone knew not to shoot at her. Once she gained some distance, a Gunner that kept watch nodded at the woman and Preston received a kick to the back of the knee, forcing him down on the floor before two gunners restrained his arms.

He looked Austin in the eyes as he stood back up and breathed heavily. He came in Quincy with one purpose and that was to face his past. To face Clint. And for the first time today, he was not afraid. The lack of fear in his eyes, the determination and the anger made Austin hesitant as to how good of an idea this was. Almost as if Preston wanted to be brought before Clint. To finally put this to rest, to finally tell him that even if he took away so many innocent lives, all of his friends, the people he loved and even if he finally gunned him down, he was never going to stop the Minutemen, never going to take away the idea that freedom and peace were worth fighting for because that was a part of every man woman and child in the Commonwealth. And not even Clint had the power to kill it.

“Then let’s not keep him waiting.”


	5. A Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Austin and the Gunner's arc finally comes to a conclusion and Preston is at last once again face to face with Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a lot for me to post this chapter because it wasn't planned however a lot of people on tumblr really like Austin's character so I had to give him a nicer arc and perhaps a less deadly ending to it. I am very easily affected by audience comments if it doesn't change a lot of the story's message and in fact I think this time it worked in my favor.   
> Anyway, hope you like it!

Preston sat quietly at the infirmary, makeshift tents that the Minutemen called home for the time being, or perhaps how every place they settle was being taken from them recently, permanently. He had no doubts about what he did, what he had to do, but he felt that he didn't deserve to be reprimanded for what he did. Maybe even punished. Ezra and Clint have been talking about him ever since they returned from the battle and the anticipation was worse than the fight he had just survived. If he was to be shouted at and scold, he wanted it over with now. 

Next to him sat the one person he was closest to, Ben, all grown up just like Preston and it almost seemed as if both were just dumb, irresponsible teenagers a day ago.

“Hey...” he whispered, catching Preston's attention.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, seeing that Ben’s wounds have been tended to.

“We both have been worse.” Ben scoffed since the one everyone was worried for at the moment was Preston.

“This is going to leave a scar.” Preston forced a smile through the cutting pain in his cheek before he turned away from Ben.

“I think it will look good on you, make you more rugged.” Ben joked to lighten the mood as he touched Preston’s cheek where a wound from the fight ripped through the flesh, observing it and feeling bad as he saw how deep it cut.

“He is going to kill me.” Preston muttered.

“He’s gonna kiss your—” Ben said loudly before stopping his curses to make sure Clint is not around.

“Preston,” Ben gently brushed against his cheek, holding the side of Preston’s head and turning his gaze towards himself. “You saved my life. You came back for me and for that woman. We are here because of you, so fuck what Clint says.”

“I wish everyone thought that way.” Preston replied and leaned his forehead against Ben’s.

Their moment was interrupted when Clint burst through the tent door, followed by Ezra who has been trying to reason with him ever since they set foot on friendly soil. Clint saw Ben who was more or less responsible for what happened, but his punishment was yet to come.

“You. Out.” He pointed with rage in his voice at Ben who was now forced to leave the tent, leaving Preston alone with the two. But, Preston had no fear of Clint as he proudly stood up in attention, looking the much taller man in the eye. 

“Sir.” He said almost mockingly.

“You know what you did Garvey. You disobeyed a direct order from a commanding officer.” Clint barked in anger, trying to intimidate Preston.

“I acted on my own will as I saw fit at the moment. I take full responsibility for my actions.” Preston replied calmly.

“You don’t get to do that kid, that’s not how the chain of command works. You endangered yourself, you endangered the operation and all because you wanted to play hero!” Clint hated that Preston did not respond with anger.

“If I didn’t do that my friend would’ve been dead, that woman would’ve been dead.” Preston finally spoke back at Clint “What bothers you more, what could’ve been or the fact that I didn’t mindlessly follow your order?”

“You—” Clint took a step back, wagging his finger at Preston as he shook his head, no words coming out. “You will pack your bag and by tomorrow morning I expect you to go back to whatever farm you came from and play hero there. How ‘bout that?”

“Clint.” Ezra interrupted “You can’t dismiss my Lieutenant.”

“Ezra he is a menace, he compromised the mission, he endangered--” Clint began again.

“He did what all of us would’ve done. He disobeyed you because he followed everything we stand for. Protect the innocent, leave no man or woman behind. Stand united.” Ezra spoke almost with authority over Clint.

“This is bullshit Ezra, I am tired of your propaganda and your crap about heroes. Maybe you need to open your eyes and look around you. We ain’t who we used to be, it ain’t Clint and Ezra back to back against the world. It’s just a bunch of kids and old dogs like us, getting spat on by every ungrateful farmer we save. Whatever glory days you cling to are over. We don't get to play heroes anymore, we try and keep this whole shit-hole from eating itself alive.” Clint seemed deeply hurt, distressed even. For the first time Preston saw in him care and worry, even fear in Clint's eyes as he tried to get through to his friend. 

“You are wrong. Ten years ago you would’ve done what Preston did, for me. People like Garvey are the only hope this world has. Selfless acts and a sense for righteousness. Those things are in short supply and in dark times for the Minutemen, heroes give the people hope.” Ezra told him and clasped his hands behind his back.

Clint stood there, lips parted and brows furrowed. Part of him knew Ezra was right, but as anger and betrayal boiled within him, it overthrew every good he had left in his heart.

“We are at the end of the line Ezra.” Clint now came closer to him and whispered.

“It doesn’t have to be like that Clint...” Ezra began to reason but was cut off.

“You are too blind to realize that the reason why the Minutemen fail is because we want to be heroes. The world doesn’t care about heroes, every man out there is for himself.”

“No Clint, I refuse to believe that.”

There was no point in further discussing the subject since it was obvious that they would never come to an agreement. As Clint stepped away, Ezra could look in the blue eyes of his friend and realize that he didn’t know the man that stood before him. That was not Clint who he served with for all those years but a dark and hollow shell of what once was a Commonwealth hero, twisted into nothing but a bitter, pessimistic old man.

“I’ll be taking my troops to the camp south. If there is trouble, you will hear from me on Radio Freedom.” He said, fixing the collar of his coat “See you around, Hollis.”

Ezra watched him as he walked away, making sure that he was out of the tent and far out of earshot before he turned back to Preston who just stood there dumbfounded.

“You are the most stubborn, brash--” Ezra began scolding and Preston loosened up a little, but still defended himself.

“I did what you thought me, you always said do the right thing, save the people—” he might’ve been twenty, but that little child that read of the pre-war stories about the fearless vigilantes and heroes that protected the innocent was now showing in his voice.

“You could’ve died, hey!” Ezra raised his voice.

“But I didn’t die and Ben and that woman were in danger and—” he stopped and realized that unlike Clint, Ezra’s words did not come from the place of authority or command, but from a place of care. Of love.

“Oh Preston...” he approached Preston who just looked up at him, begging for validation, begging to hear something from Ezra, a little word that would spark hope that what he did was not in vain and that the Commonwealth Clint so desperately tried to abandon was worth saving. Instead he goth a soft expression on Ezra's aged face, and a welcoming embrace. Preston's eyes were red but he tried his best not to cry as he just leaned his head on Ezra's shoulder, feeling his gentle hands brush against his back. All of his life he looked for a cause to fight for and now he felt more lost than ever before. He didn't know where he stood and what he stood for.

“Sometimes you have to think about yourself...”

“That’s not what you would do.” Preston replied softly before he pulled his head back to look at Ezra.

“You are right about that.” Ezra chuckled and gently tapped Preston on the arm, trying not to be too soft “You are a good kid, don’t ever think otherwise. No matter what they say. And no matter what flag you carry, and who you fight beside, it's what's inside you that makes you who you are, Preston Garvey. Don't ever forget that. ”

* * *

 

He remembered this memory with fondness, a thing to hold on to when all hope seemed gone, when the world around you was crashing down. Just like Ezra’s shoulder at that time, it gave Preston something to lean on, a certain stability and warmth as he was being escorted towards the Highway. Only now he realized how cold it was as his hot breath fogged the air before him. There was no getting out of this one, he had to face Clint, he had to face his past. That’s why he came here after all.

Austin walked next to him, proud that he took in the Minuteman alive however there was something bothering him for he constantly tugged at his shirts collar and readjusted the armor.

“The deaths of your friends are not our fault.” Preston whispered to him.

“Shut up.” Austin replied loudly.

“You can pretend I am wrong but you know Clint got all those Gunners killed. He fought when there was no need to do so, lost more than half of his men.” Preston continued.

“But yet you are here.” Austin tried to be smart.

“Was it worth it, one man for dozens?”

“To him it was.”

“But was it to you?” Preston finally asked him and the woman on the other side tugged at his arm.

“Get in here.” She said as he, Austin and few gunners got on the elevator that would take them above. It only got worse for Preston as the ground beneath him got further and further down, feeling the cold wind blow on his face and through his coat. Austin was sweating even though the weather was only getting colder. Preston’s words really got through to him because Austin had his doubts about this the moment Clint barked the commands in the radio. He wasn't here for the Quincy massacre, no, he was a new recruit, sent from the Capital Wasteland to work on Clint's radio. All he did was redirect messages and occasionally test his aim at some raiders that got too close. Certainly not a experienced fighter like the rest of the gunners and the ink on the tattoo on his forehead was still fresh and dark.

As the elevator was slowing down, Preston’s heart beat just sped up, pounding into his ears as fear began to overwhelm him. He was brave, but there was something different about having to face a man you knew, a man that took so many people you cared for from you. In the moments of realizing he is all alone he thought briefly of Sanctuary, of Sturges and the Longs and Mama Murphy, those he saved. He thought of Victoria Friday, General of the Minutemen he selflessly appointed. Or perhaps selfishly. And finally he thought of Tracie. Through and through she stood with him, came all the way here and came through when he thought all hope was lost. He hoped she is alright and away from here, that she returned with the caravan, went to try and get help. But oh how he wished she was with him as he slowly felt his courage slipping away. If only he wasn’t so alone.

* * *

 

The Gunner’s didn’t return for another strike and the merchants and mercenaries made sure not to waste this opportunity. Eli was reunited with her mother and they heeded her call to leave, just as Preston told her. Only one of the half a dozen brahmin survived and they tied the beast up to the wagons, leaving most of the things they carried behind as they just wanted to leave the cursed town as fast as they could. Those that were wounded were laid down in the back of the wagon and the rest were to walk on foot.

Abraham was still not out of danger but one of his mercenary friends luckily knew a thing or two about medicine, quickly pulling the bullet out of the wound and trying to clean it up while everyone was gathering to leave. Tracie sat with Abraham and as the crowd from the Chapel was leaving she just waited, prayed and hoped to see Preston.

“Where is he…” Tracie mumbled as her eyes carefully traced through every man, woman and child. Abraham knew who she was looking for and he himself was not too unfamiliar with loss. However it wouldn’t be easy if Tracie’s friend was gone forever, not after her determination to save him. She saw Eli running from her mother and jumping on the wagon with them.

“Abraham! I thought you were dead.” She said and wanted to hug him but the man that looked after his wound stopped her.

“Just a moment kid, alright?” he said softly to her and she patiently sat next to Tracie.

“Let her Rob.” Abraham tried to chuckle but it was too painful to do so now so he just told the girl quietly “I went to find you Eli, thought you were lost.”

 “I was, but the Minuteman found me.” She replied.

“The Minuteman?” Tracie’s eyes widened for the girl knew about Preston’s whereabouts. “Where is he?”

“They took him.” Eli replied and she too seemed saddened “That evil man with the blonde hair and black paint over his nose, he took him away. He went with them so they will let me go.” Eli told her and Tracie jumped out of the wagon.

“Shit…” Abraham mumbled and Tracie turned to the party as they slowly began going.

“We can’t leave him behind—“she ran in the front of the wagon and tried to convince them to turn. However they were tired, they were wounded and only few people with guns were still standing. To go after him meant risking everyone’s life. It didn’t take her long to realize that, as her eyes filled with tears. There was no time to run back to Sanctuary, no time to call for help. In fact she wasn’t sure if he was still alive, she didn’t know when and where they even took him.

“Kid you ought to come with us, your friend did something very brave and we will make sure it’s not forgotten.” Abraham told her and she looked down at him. How could she? After coming here with Preston, promising him that they will be alright, how could she just leave? It was overwhelming for her, but she had to say goodbye. With a bitter but reassuring smile, she touched Abraham's arm and spoke softly, her voice filled with fear and sadness. 

“You need to teach Eli to shoot, remember? And I need to find my friend.” She replied and there was certain calmness in her voice. He looked at how content she seemed and just nodded realizing that she was going to stay behind no matter what anyone said. Tracie just let her hand slowly slip down the side of the carriage as she stopped walking, the caravan moving on while she remained alone the gates of Quincy, watching them go.

She turned back to the Chapel, trying to figure out what to do. Inside the building there was nothing but scrap and old parts, the wooden benches scattered from their makeshift defences, dust and debris covering the entire floor from the explosion that hit there earlier. Tracie felt it harder to breathe with each breath she took, feeling as if her lungs would just not hold all the air. In moments like these she remembered what her mother once told her, how to calm down.

"One, two, three..." she began counting her breaths, slowly and with her eyes closed, hoping that once she opens them something good will happen. It always did before. Whenever she was scared and alone, there would be light to shine through the darkness. 

And suddenly, the last rays of the setting sun came through the window, illuminating a like through the main hall in deep red and orange, there where on a metal rack stood the Power Armor none of them used, the one brought in for repairs. It wasn’t even put together properly, rusted and old but for Tracie it was a small spark of hope. She wasn’t a smart girl and not skilled at fighting either. She couldn’t hold a gun, she couldn’t aim or shoot straight nor could she figure out complex puzzles, mathematics and long words. But she knew one thing, and that was how to fix things. And right now the only thing she could do is bring the metal monstrosity to life in hopes that just like at Concord, it will save Preston.

* * *

 

They lead Preston down the lower part of the Highway, making their way towards where the fallen lanes from above made a ramp to climb. The air fogged with every heavy breath he let out as he was being escorted. Preston refused to let them tie his hands so they had few guns on him as he slowly walked, not even considering fighting his way out of this one. It’s what he wanted, it’s what he wanted ever since the Quincy massacre. He felt alright on some days, but deep down it was still that same desire, and what better way was there than to fulfill it facing Clint.

“We should ask for a promotion…” Austin spoke to the woman that walked beside him and Preston.

“For what?” she replied, obviously a more obedient subject to Clint.

“For getting Clint his Minuteman.” Austin scoffed.

“We are doing our jobs. Don’t think you deserve any better treatment because you caught him.” She scolded Austin.

“More than half of our camp is dead. My friends are dead!” he turned to the woman and Preston could see it in his stare, that anger and also indifference, that broken spirit and defeat. Austin, too, was suffering.

“They died serving the Gunners. It’s our way. They knew what they signed up for.” The woman now stopped and pushed Preston out of the way so she can talk with Austin face to face.

“Because a madman told us to just attack those merchants? None of this was supposed to happen yet we listened to him and now everyone is dead! Is that it?!” Austin was shaking with anger and fear, he was talking back to someone higher than him in the chain of command.

“He is our General for a reason.” The woman reminded him.

“And I think that Tessa and some of the others were right, he cares about nothing but himself and his own gain. And we care for the Gunners. So maybe he shouldn’t be leading.” Austin didn’t drop the subject.

“If you think you are fit to lead, you should challenge his authority. See how that ends for you.” The woman replied with a smug face.

“Hey!” he turned to the few other Gunners that stood there “Don’t you think it’s time we ask Clint to answer for what he did. He attacked that caravan for no reason, lost half of his troop just to get to this guy and what good does that do for us?”

The Gunners all began hesitantly turning at each other, realizing there was merit to Austin’s words even if all they knew most of their life was following orders. The Gunners were a cult, but sometimes they were even like family. And Clint cared not for their rules and their ideals, he just wanted a quick way to the Capital Wasteland with a title and a lot of power and money. 

“This kind of disobedience is most severely punished and I am sure you know that.” The woman said in a low tone and reached for her gun. Preston saw what she did and he glanced back at the few other Gunners that escorted them. They lowered their guns for a second as they noticed the woman reaching for hers and were unsure what to do. Austin was right, people they cared for were dead and for what? One man and the pathetic need for revenge?

This was Preston’s only shot at escaping, using this dispute to arm himself and perhaps best the guards so that if he was to face Clint, he would do so on his own terms. As the woman raised the gun towards Austin, he jumped and pulled her arm away, the gun firing the bullet meant for her opponent inches from his head, as Preston pulled her in front of him and towards the other Gunners. They didn’t dare shoot as he used her as a shield before he managed to get the gun from her hand.

However the woman was taller than Preston and hit him in the stomach with her elbow, getting the upper hand for a moment even if he was armed, but before she could do much her attention was caught by the gunfire in the background. One of the Gunners intended to shoot her in the back, but she did have sympathizers among them which retaliated which lead to the Gunners fighting each other over who would stand with her and who would stand with Austin. In this brief moment of confusion Preston managed to pull away from her, however was quickly caught by Austin with a gun at his back.

“Don’t think my friends died in vain.” Austin told him as Preston froze. However the woman’s anger was now towards her fellow Gunner and not their prisoner as she shot Austin in the shoulder, Preston jumping to dodge the gunfire. The woman walked up to Austin who struggled to get off the ground, and he put the sole of her boot against his throat, aiming at his head.

Before she cocked the gun, a loud groaning noise came from the elevator, something straining against the wires. Everyone turned to look at the source for the noise before one of the other Gunners went flying right into the woman, knocking her back down. She was confused as to what happened and Austin grabbed at his throat to catch his breath, all of them turning towards where the flying man came.

Preston’s eyes widened as he saw there, standing behind the Gunners who stared in confusion, an armored figure with face hidden behind the dark visor of a Power Armor’s helmet. The Gunners were confused as to who was piloting the thing but soon began firing as it was rapidly closing in on them. The bullets scratched the surface and some when through and into the machinery, but the wearer seemed unharmed. They resorted to running, but perhaps it came to them a little too late as the ones closest to the armored attacker got their guns grabbed from their hands, the metal pipes and gears in them smashed under the power of the armors grip as it rushed after the others, aiming to disarm them too.

Most surprising was that the figure didn’t intent to hurt them, just make sure they were no longer a threat. And then in the movements of the armored person there was certain shyness, almost gentleness as much as the bulky frame allowed. Preston felt the piercing gaze look right at him and even with all the rust and dark, cold steel, felt a certain familiarity and warmth within.

“I came back for you.” Tracie’s soft voice said from behind the heavy helmet and filter and he gave her a wide grin, happy that not only was she alive but she didn’t leave him. The woman however wasn’t going to let them have a happy reunion. She reached for her gun that was on the ground and Tracie rushed to stop her, shaking the entire Highway as she stomped heavily. Austin fired at the Power Armor but it barely scratched the surface before Tracie stepped on the piece of metal and plastic, crushing it with the heavy metal foot before the woman could reach it. The gun was now useless and only Preston and Austin remained armed. Austin aimed to take out the woman for he needed Preston alive however Tracie stepped in his way.

“No! It’s enough!” she said however once she heard the clicking of the Power Armor’s mechanisms she realized the woman had disconnected the fusion core, preventing her from moving. She wanted Tracie out of the armor and the big bulky weapon for herself before Preston intervened. The other Gunner’s rushed to stop him but what he lacked in height or strength he had in agility as he tripped the first that came at him and grabbed the other one in a chokehold. However Austin was quicker in getting to the woman and he already fought her for the Power Armor.

As he tackled her on the ground he dropped his gun but right now Preston was more concerned in making sure that Tracie was alright, than settling the Gunner’s dispute. He jammed the core in and saw Tracie stretching her arms as the fusion core began glowing, exhaling in relief since she was back in the fight.

“Thanks!” she said cheerfully but their attention was caught by Austin who was on the ground now, the Gunners that sided with him rushing to help if they could as the woman had both her arms around his throat. Suddenly in attempts to survive as he felt his breath being taken away he kicked his legs until one stroke her side, sending her rolling down towards the edge of the Highway where the fence was ripped. She tried grabbing to something desperately however lost her grip on the holes in the concrete and yelling she fell down the few story drop below. The first thud was quick and it seemed she rolled down one of the roofs of the houses below before falling again. Tracie was the only one that had rushed almost in an attempt to reach for her even if she clearly knew whose side she took in this fight. Perhaps the woman survived her fall, perhaps she didn’t but Tracie felt in a way responsible for what happened to her.

Austin pulled back to recover however soon found his own gun pointed at his face, Preston standing on the other end of the barrel.

“You got what you wanted Minuteman.” Austin began as he stood up with his hands in the air, the other surviving Gunners joining not too far behind.

“Well not really, you still have something that belongs to me.” Preston told him and Austin stood there confused. Preston then raised a brow and with his head gestured at the laser musket that Austin almost forgot on his shoulder. He slowly grabbed and Preston cocked the gun, reminding him that he can fire faster.

“I can still take you down.” Austin commented.

“Then why don’t you? You are planning on facing Clint? Is that it?” Preston taunted him, knowing well he wasn’t going to fire for the weapon wasn’t charged.

“If only you never came to this place, none of this would’ve happened.” Austin said in his anger.

“You are right, but you can still change how this ends.” Preston warned him as he noticed how Austin put his hand on the generator.

Austin stood there, looking around as he felt every breath being heavier to draw in than the previous before he put his hand away and slid the laser musket down the concrete and right at Preston’s feet.

“Anything else?” he asked mockingly.

“No we are good. Now get the hell out of here.” Preston warned them and the Gunners in the back didn’t wait a second. The lives of the merchants they didn’t kill for their own. It was fair and Austin was surprised by Preston’s action. If the tables were turned he would’ve shot him but Preston showed the kind of mercy they both knew the Gunners didn’t deserve. Austin and the Gunners made it to the elevator and they were gone without a second thought.

“What about—“ Tracie turned to Preston, meaning to ask how they will conclude all of this, after such a long fight, but she was interrupted when another power armored figure tackled her, sending both of them flying and rolling down the Highway, the metal parts of the armor breaking down with every impact one of them had with the ground. Preston opened his mouth to scream after her but he was almost knocked down by a shockwave that travelled through the metal beams and concrete, shaking the foundation of the entire structure.

He turned to the origin of the sound and saw how much of the old dust was lifted in the air, clouding the view as he heard the rhythmic and heavy footsteps approaching. As the dust settled before him appeared a heavily armored figure, taller and larger than Tracie and certainly than him, but the cowboy hat that threw a shadow on his aged face and his long moustache were unmistakable. Preston’s shocked expression turned to a frown as he said in a hushed tone.

“Clint.”


End file.
